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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/25649341">how do you deal with not being good enough?</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Yukitori/pseuds/Yukitori'>Yukitori</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Haikyuu!!</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Angst, Eating Disorder Not Otherwise Specified, Implied/Referenced Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, im really just projecting</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-08-01</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-08-01</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-05 12:41:52</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Mature</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>857</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/25649341</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/Yukitori/pseuds/Yukitori</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Maybe things would’ve been different if he wasn't born into this family, born into this life. Being forced to keep up appearances and to uphold the family image. Expected to be destined for greatness rather than mediocrity. And there's the off chance that even if he was a different person, Oikawa Tooru would still be the same.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>18</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>how do you deal with not being good enough?</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>so this is my first post on AO3 despite being on here for a long time (^_^.) this was mainly just something small i wrote to let out some pent up shit in my life i haven't completely dealt or recovered from.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>      Maybe things would’ve been different if he wasn't born into this family, born into this life. Being forced to keep up appearances and to uphold the family image. Expected to be destined for greatness rather than mediocrity. And there's the off chance that even if he was a different person, Oikawa Tooru would still be the same. </p>
<p>       Everything started getting bad after he found volleyball; what used to be a harmless and fun hobby turned into some twisted obsession. The long days in middle school when he practiced so long, developing calluses and bruises from the surprisingly dense volleyball. That also changed everything else, he worked harder to be the best student, the best at volleyball, the best behaved, the best son. Some would say the switch was expected but those who knew Oikawa Tooru would know there was some catalyst. They would never find out because of course, you can’t be the best if you're vulnerable. That once kind and compassionate child turned into an ambitious monster. He would sponge up the information in classes and regurgitate the same nonsense onto papers and worksheets, easily earning a spot at the top of his class. But no one seemed to notice the frowns when he received a paper back with a less than perfect grade. </p>
<p>      No one seemed to notice the collections of bandaids he amassed on his fingers or his arms. Perfectionism is a disease that kills slowly, and you could see it take its toll on such a young child.</p>
<p>      When high school rolled around, he learned how to hide it. Hide the frustration of not being perfect. He would make jokes and play around, showing off his carefully crafted mask. Sometimes he’d get a sick thrill out of tricking someone into thinking he was perfectly okay. But that's how it goes, doesn't it? And with the more intricate facade came the uglier side of dealing with being imperfect. The subtle abuse to yourself. They’re right when they say you're your own worst critic, but they were never more correct when talking about Oikawa. The pushing himself past his limit in middle school became a ritual every other practice and even outside of the school setting. It was hard to notice, no one asked where your bruises or scrapes came from when you played a sport. 

</p>
<p>     He eventually discovered the sickly sweet pain of self-inflicted wounds, where after practice it became a ritual to carefully grab the inconspicuous box and lock his bathroom door. At first, he used to be scared of the pain, it soon comforted him like an old friend, that's what scared him more. What he thought was better was the morning after, having the dried blood stick to his sleeping pants or his school uniform. Quite often would he press down on the fresh scars to feel that burning, aching pain. He still kept up the good student appearance through hard work and punishment. Even when he barely fell behind he’d skip a meal, always depending on what he could get away with. It usually was breakfast and dinner, but not that anyone at home would say anything; they all know too well what he was doing. It, of course, was expected from him, because he obviously didn't care enough about being good enough if he wasn't punishing himself for not reaching that. It's such a difficult burden to deal with alone, being imperfect. </p>
<p>     Maybe it was when he knew Kageyama was going to Karasuno and he pushed himself too far and into an injury, or maybe it was just time, but that's when he fell from grace. It's the point of the story when Icarus flew too close to the sun. His habits consumed him, living on nothing but the fear of not being good enough, not being enough. That's when the starving went full-blown when he’d then punish himself for not eating and force himself to eat until he was sick and then more. When he’d push himself further with his serves, Hitting the same thirty balls over and over until he couldn't even feel the searing hot pain in his palm and fingers. When he’d run until he threw up and then turn around and make the trip back. 

</p>
<p>     Maybe it was finally when Karasuno won when he had no more chances, that he finally broke. Where scars from razors on his thighs, resembling interwoven strings, turned into circle shaped burns lining his forearm. Where instead of smelling like sweat, baked goods, and leftover cologne, he started smelling more of rubbing alcohol and smoke. 

</p><p>     And he finally reached a point where there was no more shine in his eyes; you could no longer see that happy and optimistic child, there was only the shell left of a person who just wasn't good enough. </p>
<p>     The cracks in his mask finally gave away and he was left vulnerable to the world, where the world could see him in all his distraught vulnerability, longing to be that child again, longing for that innocence and for another chance. But even if he did get that chance, would he have made different choices?</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>if you enjoyed my small drabble, leave a comment! i dont write much but if someone actually cares enough to value my writing then i might post more ʕ•ᴥ•ʔ</p></blockquote></div></div>
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